Duel at Araluen

by John Flanagan

  “Welcome, Princess Madelyn,” he said. True to Skandian form, he made no attempt to bow. “Is that the right term for you?” She certainly wasn’t dressed like a princess, he saw. Beneath the cloak, she had a quiver of two dozen arrows on her belt, balanced by a double scabbard holding a saxe and a smaller throwing knife. Her bow was slung over one shoulder.

  “Just Maddie will do fine,” she said. “I only do the princess thing at Castle Araluen. The rest of the time, I’m a Ranger—fourth-year apprentice.”

  Hal noticed the bronze oakleaf around her neck. It was a Ranger’s symbol, he knew.

  Jern frowned at her announcement. “But you’re a girl.” There was a question obvious in the statement.

  Maddie nodded agreement. She had heard that dozens of times before. She was used to it by now. “Nice of you to notice. As a matter of fact, I’m the first female Ranger—the first girl to be selected as an apprentice in the Corps.”

  Thorn shook his head, a huge grin on his face. “I knew there was something about you,” he said. “That boar you shot—that was no fluke, was it?”

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips briefly. “No,” she said. “I sort of knew what I was doing. I thought you’d seen through my act.”

  Thorn smacked his wooden hook into his left palm. “I knew it,” he said. “I told these others, There’s more to her than meets the eye.”

  “He did,” Hal confirmed. “He said it several times.”

  “More than several,” Stig put in, grinning. “In fact, he became a little tedious on the subject.”

  “The fact is,” Thorn said, “I knew it and none of the rest of you did. No matter how many times I told you.”

  “Which was a lot,” Stig said. But nothing could wipe the satisfied look from Thorn’s bearded face.

  Sensing he was about to say I knew it again, Hal held up a hand to stop him.

  “So, Ranger Maddie, what can we do for you?”

  5

  Cassandra was leaning on the parapet of the balcony that ran round the tower, surveying the surrounding countryside. She knew that it was too soon for Maddie to return. But she patrolled the balcony each morning, for any sign of activity in the grounds below the castle.

  She sensed a movement behind her and turned to see Ingrid, proffering a steaming mug and smiling at her.

  “Thought you might like a coffee, my lady,” she said.

  Cassandra took the mug and warmed her hands around it. In the early morning, the air was still chilly. She took a sip and smiled her thanks.

  Ingrid moved forward to lean on the parapet beside her. Since her usual mistress was absent, the young woman seemed to have attached herself to Cassandra, sensing that the princess needed support and assistance. The strain of being in command of their small force was showing on Cassandra’s face. She hadn’t been sleeping well. Ingrid knew this because she often heard the princess leave her room in the middle of the night to prowl around the balcony, peering into the gloom below to try to sense any movement from Dimon and his men.

  “No sign of anyone coming,” Ingrid said.

  Cassandra shook her head. “It’s too early. Maddie would only just have reached the river—if she managed to get away.”

  The fact that Cassandra voiced the doubt was evidence of the strain she was feeling, Ingrid realized. “She got away,” Ingrid said confidently. “If she hadn’t, Dimon would have been on the stairs immediately, crowing about it and using her as a bargaining chip.”

  “That’s true,” Cassandra said, grateful for the reassurance.

  “How long do you think it’ll be before she comes back?” Ingrid asked.

  Cassandra considered the question. “Assuming the Herons are on time, she should catch up with them in a day or so. Add another two days for them to reach the hill fort. Then, say, two more days to make contact with Horace and come up with a plan. Another day to help them break out. Four more days for them to make it back here. Ten days in all—let’s say two weeks to be sure.”

  “And in the meantime, all we have to do is sit tight here,” Ingrid said.

  “As you say. We sit tight. And make sure Dimon doesn’t catch us out with any more of his tricks.”

  At that moment, the hammering started and the two women exchanged a quick glance.

  “They’re at it again,” Cassandra said. She turned away from the parapet and hurried around the balcony to the inner side. The hammering was coming from the castle courtyard. But it was obviously on the other side of the keep tower, as whatever was being built was out of their sight.

  “What are they up to?” Ingrid said, half to herself. The noise of hammering had begun around midday the day before. It had gone on through the afternoon, then tailed away in the early evening.

  “Nothing good. You can be sure of that,” Cassandra answered, her brow furrowed. She hated not knowing what Dimon was doing, what he might be planning. She was reasonably confident that they were safe up here in the tower. But reasonably confident was a long way from certain. Dimon had proved himself to be devious and ingenious—as witness his successful plan to take control of the castle. And with an enemy like that, it paid to be forewarned of his plans.

  Eventually, she shrugged. “I expect we’ll find out what he’s planning in time,” she said.

  They stood side by side for several minutes, looking down into the courtyard toward the corner from which the hammering seemed to be coming. For a moment, Cassandra toyed with the idea of climbing down the series of hidden ladders to the cellars, then sneaking out to see what the enemy was up to. But she quickly discarded the idea. It would be too risky. She didn’t have Maddie’s ability to move without being seen. And there was always the chance that she might give away the existence of the secret stairway to the upper floors.

  “We’ll just have to be patient,” she said, as much to herself as to the young woman beside her.

  At that moment, the hammering stopped.

  “They’ve finished building it, whatever ‘it’ is,” Ingrid observed.

  “Or they’re taking a coffee break,” Cassandra replied. But after a few minutes they heard men shouting orders, and then a new sound—the sound of something heavy being dragged across the flagstones. They both leaned forward expectantly, craning over the wall for the first sight of . . . whatever it might be.

  The first thing they saw was a team of men—about a dozen of them—hauling on ropes and slowly making their way around the corner of the keep and into the courtyard below. It was obviously hard work—whatever they were dragging, it was something big and clumsy. They could hear the rumbling sound of large wooden wheels on the flagstones, the creak of the ropes and the shouts of the overseers who were in charge, urging the men pulling on the ropes to greater efforts.

  Then, slowly, a massive wooden platform began to come rolling into view. As it came into the open, they could see more details: a long, crane-like beam that surmounted the wheeled platform, set on a fulcrum one-third of the way along its length. At its longer end, a cradle of ropes hung down, supporting a leather, bucket-shaped object. They could see an arrangement of cogwheels at the base of the beam, and a large windlass-like structure.

  “What is it?” Ingrid asked nervously. Whatever it was, she thought, it boded nothing good for them.

  “It’s a siege engine,” Cassandra replied quietly. “A trebuchet, or a catapult. It’s designed to throw large rocks at a building and smash down the walls.”

  Ingrid looked at her fearfully. “Can it smash these walls?” she asked, looking down at the curved wall of the tower, built in granite and seemingly unbreakable. Then she looked back at the trebuchet. There was something intrinsically evil and threatening about the machine.

  Cassandra shrugged. “I’m not sure. The tower is pretty solid. But I guess if they keep at it long enough, it’s possible.”

  She turned as she heard a footste
p behind her, to see Merlon emerging from the tower and moving to the balustrade to peer over it. The sergeant seemed unimpressed by the sight of the siege machine below them. That was comforting, she thought. He grunted and spat out into the void.

  “What do you think, Merlon?” she asked. “Will they manage to breach the walls with that thing?”

  “Won’t be easy, my lady. Depends on a lot of things. In the meantime, why don’t I get a few of the archers to see if we can slow them down?”

  He gestured to the men below, swarming over the siege machine as they dragged it into position. Three of them climbed on board and started turning the windlass. Slowly, the main beam moved up, then back. As it pivoted on its axle, they could see that it was counterweighted by a massive boulder at its shorter end.

  Cassandra nodded. Merlon’s suggestion made sense. “Good idea. Go get them.”

  He hurried back into the tower and they could hear him calling orders as he went.

  “Once they’ve wound the beam back against the counterbalance,” she told Ingrid, “they’ll load their projectile into the bucket at the end of the ropes. Then, when they release the beam, it will swing up and over, and the ropes and bucket will shoot up as well—like a flexible elbow. When the beam stops, the ropes and bucket will keep going like a flail. It’ll increase the force of the beam and hurl the projectile up toward us.”

  Before Ingrid could reply, there was a clatter of feet behind them and three of the archers emerged, moving to line the balustrade. Merlon was behind them. They grinned as he pointed down into the courtyard.

  “See that? he said. “It’s been made by Dimon and his men. And there are a dozen of his finest, just waiting to throw rocks at us. Why don’t you lads see if you can give them something to think about?”

  The archers said nothing. But they all drew shafts from their quivers and set them to their strings.

  “All together,” the senior man among them ordered. “When I give the word.”

  The massive bows creaked as the three men drew back their arrows, aiming down into the courtyard below.

  “Aim low,” the senior archer cautioned them. When shooting downhill, he knew, there was a tendency to shoot high. Then, as their aim steadied, he counted down.

  “Three, two, one. Shoot.”

  The three bows thrummed almost as one. There was the usual slithering clatter of arrows leaving the string and passing across the bow stave. Cassandra and Ingrid watched eagerly as the arrows sped away.

  “Let ’em have another before they wake up,” said Merlon, and in the same instant that the first three arrows struck home, another three were on their way.

  Two of the first three shots found their targets. One man fell away from the windlass, an arrow in his upper body. Another, who had been hauling on the ropes to position the trebuchet, went down with a shaft in his thigh. The third shot hit the beam right next to another man and buried itself deep into the timber, quivering with the impact. The man leapt to the far side of the platform, seeking cover.

  A few seconds later, the second volley arrived, hissing through the air. By this time, the men on the catapult had become aware of the danger and most had scrambled behind the structure, seeking cover. The arrows screeched off the flagstones, skidding and ricocheting but causing no further harm. As the three archers readied their bows once more, Merlon held up a hand to stop them.

  “Wait till you have a good target,” he said.

  All movement had ceased in the courtyard as the crew of the trebuchet huddled behind its solid timbers. They heard a single voice shouting at them to get back to their positions.

  It was a familiar voice.

  “Dimon doesn’t sound too happy,” Ingrid observed. She was grinning.

  But Cassandra merely shook her head. “He’ll come up with a countermeasure.”

  And sure enough, as Dimon saw that his impassioned shouting was having no effect, he calmed down and called orders for his men to withdraw. Crouching to avoid further arrows, they scuttled back into shelter behind the corner of the keep tower.

  “That’s put a spoke in their wheel,” Merlon said in a satisfied tone.

  Cassandra nodded. “Yes. I imagine now they’ll build some kind of shelter over the platform, so they can attack us without being shot in return. But it’ll take time,” she added. Then she turned to the archers. “Well done, men. You might as well stand down for now.”

  The three men knuckled their foreheads in salute and trooped back inside the tower.

  Cassandra took another look below, at the huge machine now standing alone in the courtyard. From the other side of the keep tower, the hammering began once more. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

  “Wonder how long that’ll take them?” Ingrid said.

  Cassandra shrugged. “Probably a couple of hours. We’ll detail someone to keep watch and give us warning when they’re ready. In the meantime, we’ll need to try to think of a way to stop their little game once and for all.”

  She leaned over the balustrade, her eyes narrowing as she studied the siege engine more closely. Then she nodded slowly to herself. She thought she could see a way they might be able to do it.

  6

  Maddie unrolled the map she had drawn before she left Castle Araluen. She had copied it from the large wall map in Cassandra’s command center on the ninth floor. She spread it out on the wide bole of a tree stump as Hal, Thorn and Stig gathered round, leaning to look over her shoulder as she touched the map with the point of her saxe.

  “This is the Wezel River. It’s north of here, as you can see. Maybe twelve kilometers from where we are at the moment. And here, six or seven kilometers east of Harnel village, is an old hill fort, built hundreds of years ago but deserted and derelict in recent times. This is where my father and Gilan are trapped.”

  “Trapped?” Thorn asked. “Trapped by who?”

  Hal grinned. “Shouldn’t that be ‘by whom’?”

  Thorn glared at him. “She knows what I mean.” He turned his gaze back to Maddie. “Trapped by who?” he repeated. Then, to make himself totally clear, he added, “Whom has trapped them?”

  “A mixed force of the Red Fox Clan and Sonderland mercenaries,” Maddie said.

  Stig snorted derisively. “Sonderlanders! They’d fight their own grandmothers for money.”

  Thorn nodded agreement, then added, “Mind you, their grandmothers would probably give them a shellacking.”

  But Hal held up a hand for silence. “Just a moment, who are these Red Fox people?”

  Maddie hesitated. In her enthusiasm, she had jumped right in, she realized. She had a habit of doing that—assuming that her listeners knew what she was talking about before she actually told them. “Maybe I’d better start at the beginning.”

  Hal nodded. “That would be good.”

  She gathered her thoughts and launched into a brief explanation of the plot hatched by the Red Fox Clan to lure Horace and Gilan away with most of the garrison and to usurp the throne—and of Dimon’s leading role in it. As she mentioned his name, Hal raised his eyebrows.

  “Dimon? Wasn’t he left in command of the garrison?”

  “He had us all fooled,” Maddie said bitterly. “Mum and Dad thought he was loyal. They trusted him implicitly.”

  “I didn’t like him,” Thorn growled.

  She turned a steady gaze on the old sea wolf. “I plan to kill him,” she said quietly.

  Thorn nodded his approval. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”

  Stig was rubbing his jaw as he thought over what Maddie had told them. “But what does he hope to gain by this treachery?”

  “The throne,” Maddie said. “He’s actually a distant relative of my mother. If he can remove my grandfather, my mother, my father, and me, he’ll have a legitimate claim to the throne. His plan is to blame the revolt on the Red Fox C
lan. Naturally, he’ll deny any connection to them—in fact, he’ll say that he drove them off, but too late to save my mother. And there’ll be nobody left alive to argue the toss. Then he’ll make his claim for the throne—all the while looking sad and sorrowful about the whole situation.”

  She studied their faces as they let this sink in. Then she added, “Unfortunately, there are a lot of people in Araluen who would welcome a return to the law of male succession.”

  “I always thought your mother was a popular figure,” Stig said.

  Maddie nodded. “She is. But that’s mainly in Araluen Fief and some of the surrounding fiefdoms, like Redmont. Farther north and west, they know little about her. And remember, she’s not actually the queen yet. So he wouldn’t be seen to be replacing her.”

  Hal was studying the map. He tapped the symbol representing the hill fort.

  “So what’s Gilan doing getting himself trapped?” he asked. The Herons had worked with Gilan in the past, and they tended to think of him as the person in charge.

  “He and my father were tricked. They had reports that there was a small band of Red Fox rebels causing a disturbance up here. No more than thirty or forty, they thought. They took forty cavalrymen and archers with them to nip any possible trouble in the bud. Except when they got here, they found they were facing over one hundred and fifty troops.”

  “Nasty surprise,” Hal said. “Do they know about what’s happened at Castle Araluen?”

  “We don’t think so,” Maddie said. “There’s no way they could have heard about it. If they had, I think my father would have done something rash like trying to break out of the fort in a direct frontal assault.”

  “Not a good idea,” Hal said. He was studying the map again, as if he could see the opposing forces at the old hill fort.

  “No. They’re relatively safe in the fort, but if they try to break out, the Red Foxes will see them coming and be ready for them. There’ll be no element of surprise, and they’ll be outnumbered by three to one.”